


A Wedding to Remember

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cersei fosters at Riverrun, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Same-Sex Marriage, Somehow not crack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:15:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei, Lord Tully’s ward, challenges Brandon Stark for Catelyn’s hand. She wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wedding to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in part by Keep the Bouquets, Throw Away the Grooms by Netgirl_y2k. You should read that if you enjoy cute girls getting married. I, obviously, enjoy cute girls getting married. 
> 
> A few more notes  
> 1\. Cersei fostered at Riverrun  
> 2\. She and Cat are already in a relationship. If you've read my fic The River Rushes On, it's pretty much the same setup as that.  
> 3\. Brandon is canonically a brazen asshole. This is how I wrote him.  
> 4\. Um, yeah. This started out hella cracky and cute and ended up being more realistic but still cute in parts? It isn’t super sad like my other Cersei/Cat fics so we can call it a victory.

Cersei blocks one of his blows and moves swiftly out of the way, returning the strike with a blow of her own.

“You’re getting good at this,” her mentor says as he tries to block another swing of her sword. She smiles as she continues sparring with him.

“I’d hope so,” she says, jabbing above his head, “we’ve been sparring long enough.” Brynden Tully agreed to teach her swordsmanship when she became a ward of Riverrun three years ago. She knows that she’s improved. Half the time she can even beat him, and the Blackfish is swordsman renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms. This time, however, does not end in a victory.

Cersei ends up falling in the dirt, his sword pressed against his throat. She smirks, though, because she’ll most probably win the next round. She just needs to get back up and try again. Her father would never even let her try the first time.

Fostering at Riverrun is the best thing that ever happened to her.

* * *

 

 

The heir to Winterfell rides into Riverrun with a host the size of a small town and the cold of winter seems to follow him. Lord Tully announces his betrothal to Catelyn at the feast. Cersei’s heart feels like it’s been stomped on.

* * *

 

 

That night, they return to Cat’s chambers, as always.

“I’m betrothed,” she says with a mix of awe and confusion.

“You’re betrothed,” Cersei agrees begrudgingly. It shouldn’t be the savage Northerner who is given Catelyn’s hand, wonderful, _compassionate_ Catelyn's hand. It should be _her._ Cersei digs her fingers into Cat’s long, soft locks.

“Cersei,” she asks aloud, “Can we still do this?” Cersei moves her hand from Cat’s hair to cup her cheek.

“You’re not wed yet,” she says softly. The other girl smiles at her and kisses her softly on the lips. As they kiss, Cersei almost forgets that Cat’s to be a woman wed.

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Cersei finds herself taking out her anger on a practice dummy, though she really wants to take it out on Brandon Stark. After a while, hacking away at the dummy, the yard fills with men, lowborn Riverrun boys trying to catch a glimpse of the heir to Winterfell as Stark’s entire host scurries around him like rats. It makes Cersei sick. Brandon Stark is no higher born than she is, and he certainly shouldn’t be the one wedding Catelyn. That should be her. She’s the one that loves her.

The heir to Winterfell stands in the yard, swinging his sword about and making lewd jokes about it. The squires and knights of Riverrun congregate around him the way that the lowborn always do the highborn.

“Maybe I’ll fuck her with it?” he says with a smirk, grasping the hit of his sword and raising his eyebrow. The burning rage within her erupts like a volcano.

“You shouldn’t be saying such things about the woman that you’re meant to marry,” she says, and the anger in her tone is almost palpable.

“I’m the one who’s to wed her,” he says, “not you. Shouldn’t that be my decision?” Cersei makes a split-second decision, the way that she’s prone to.

“I challenge you, Brandon Stark for the hand of Catelyn Tully,” Cersei says grandly, her voice not even cracking as adrenaline and fear course through her veins. He turns to her with an amused and confused look on his face.

“You would challenge me?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yes,” she says, with an arrogance matching his own, “and I’ll defeat you too.”

“Might I at least ask your name, great challenger,” he asks amiably.

“I am Cersei of House Lannister,” she says and she flips her head towards him, her braid falling to side of her face.

“Well then, Lady Cersei,” he says, with a cocksure smile, “I suppose we’ll just have to find out. After the noontime feast.”

“I’ll be ready,” she says, clutching her sword in her fingers, “will you be?”

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t come up again until the feast that night. About halfway through the second course, Brandon Stark decides that he will bring up the day’s proceedings.

“The Lady Cersei challenged me for the Lady Catelyn’s hand,” Brandon says, a teasing lilt to his voice. Lord Tully’s confused face resembles his sigil.

The Blackfish laughs harder than he’s ever laughed before.

“Surely you’re joking,” Lord Tully says, “Brynden, tell me that he’s joking.”

“He’s not joking, brother,” he manages to say between chortles.  

“I won’t be thought a craven,” Brandon Stark says, “if the girl wants to fight me for my betrothed’s hand, so be it. It won’t be difficult to defeat her.”

“Or maybe it will be easy for me to defeat _you,”_ Cersei spits back, unable to contain the impulse to shout back.

“Don’t harm her overmuch,” asks Lord Tully, “I won’t have the lords of Westeros thinking that I mistreat my wards.”

“I doubt I’ll need to,” Brandon says amiably, arrogantly.

* * *

 

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Catelyn tells her after the feast. Cersei laughs, and Cat glares at her.

“He’s going to beat you into the ground and you think it’s the time to joke?” she demands.

“I’ll defeat him, love,” she says, “and we’ll wed each other. Everything will be alright.”

“Cersei,” she says, her voice cracking, “Even if you win, they’ll never let us wed. The Seven forbid it.” Cersei sighs, but she can see Cat’s point. But she knows that this will work. She’ll win, and then they’ll wed. She’s a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Winning bets in her blood, and this one won’t end any differently. Maybe someday they’ll call _her_ Cersei the Clever.

“Might I at least have your favor to wear?” Cersei asks.

“Cersei,” she says in exasperation. 

“Cat,” she replies, looking deep into Catelyn’s bright blue eyes, “please.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Cat laments, wrapping her arms around the other girl.

“Then they’ll sing songs about our great love,” she says boldly. Catelyn runs her fingers gently across the other girl’s face.

“You’ll be the death of me,” says with some mixture of fondness and resentment.

* * *

 

 

This disagreement started in the yard, so they both feel that it’s only reasonable to settle it in the yard. Nearly the whole of Riverrun seems to gather around to watch, surely waiting to watch her fail. Cersei is eager to disappoint.

* * *

 

 

The fight is a blur of angry swinging and it seems to be over in the blink of an eye. Cersei ends up on top, quite literally. 

“Do you yield?” she asks, her knee digging into his crotch and her sword brushing dangerously against his throat. If she were to press any harder, she knows that she would draw blood.

“Alright,” he chokes out, “I yield.” Cersei stands up and sheaths her sword, and Brandon stands up and dusts himself off. There is a moment of shocked and confused silence before Cersei breaks it.

“Might I have a kiss for my bravery?” she asks, a smirk snaking its way across her lips. Catelyn grabs her by the tunic and doesn’t even think of the people around them as she pulls her in for a kiss on the lips.

“Alright, enough!” Lord Tully shouts, “Catelyn, get off of her.” Cat breaks the kiss, and stumbles to her feet, a contrite and embarrassed look on her face.

“You will not wed my daughter,” Lord Tully states, looking to Cersei.

“I won her hand fairly,” says Cersei, “it’s the law.”

“The law does not apply to women,” he says.

“It applies to anyone,” she insists, and he sends her a glare that would have withered girls who were not raised by Tywin Lannister.

“We will discuss this more inside,” Lord Tully says, anger in his tone, and Cersei can tell that it is not a request.

* * *

 

 

That somehow morphs to Lord Tully, Brandon Stark, and Cersei herself speaking in Lord Tully’s solar.

“You will not be wedding my daughter,” Lord Tully declares.

Cersei says, “I won her hand fairly.”

“Lord Brandon,” he says, “Please forgive my ward. The betrothal still stands. She had _no_ right to challenge you.”

“With all due respect,” Brandon says in a tone that is not respectful in the least, “I lost the duel. The girl won her hand fairly.” He looks angry and embarrassed as a satisfied smirk slinks across Cersei’s face.

“See,” she says, not even minding that she sounds childish.

“Surely you can’t be serious,” Lord Tully says.

“I am deadly serious, Lord Tully,” the Stark boy says, and Cersei almost laughs. Her foster father needs to stop asking for confirmation of things he doesn’t want to be confirmed.

“I don’t think that I want her hand anymore,” Brandon says, “let the Lannister girl have her.” He leaves the solar in what can at best be called a poof of teenaged angst. He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns to face her.

“Your father will hear about this,” Lord Tully tells her, and she almost wants to laugh.

“And the king as well,” she retorts. King Aerys may be mad, but he enjoys tormenting her father. She suspects that he will declare it legal solely to see the look on his face.

* * *

 

 

“We did it,” Cersei tells her with a smile as she sits at the end of the bed. 

“He’s taking it to the king,” she says, “And he’ll let us. Aerys is as mad as the seer woman in Lannisport. He’ll think this is hilarious.”

“I’m ruined,” Cat says softly.

“Cat,” she says, “I won the duel, and now we’ll wed. Everything’s working out the way that it should.”

“Cersei,” she says, “Of course it won’t work. The only thing it’s done is loose me the best match I could have had. No one will want me now.”

“I promise,” she says, because she knows this, deep within, “everything will be alright.” Catelyn laughs in return, a bitter, stifled laugh.

She says, “I think that you might be as mad as the king.”

She makes a pillow of Cersei’s stomach, and says, “but I hope that you’re right.” Cersei runs her fingers through Cat’s auburn hair, and she prays to the Seven that she is.

* * *

 

 

Brandon Stark and his host leave in the morning, and Lord Tully readies his party to leave for King’s Landing in the next few days.

 

It somehow turns to a trip to King’s Landing. It takes a week on the River Road to reach the Kingsroad, and another two to reach King’s Landing.

* * *

 

 

Hoster Tully doesn’t bother trying to separate them on the road. It would be futile to try. By this time, Cersei has not lost any of her confidence that their plan will work. Cat, however, has.

 

“Everyone knows now,” Catelyn says, and Cersei sighs. She doesn’t think that Cat will stop worrying about this until they’re married in the sight of gods and men.

“I’ll never be offered another match as high as the heir to Winterfell,” she says, and Cersei feels a pang of guilt. If her assumption is wrong, and the king won’t approve, then she has lost Catelyn a highborn husband. If so, then she might have lost her lover everything. She tries to push the treacherous thoughts aside.

“Cat,” Cersei promises, “the king will approve of this marriage.” She knows that he will. He _has_ to, or maybe she just wants it so much she’s making herself believe so.

“I want to believe you,” the other girl whispers, “but I’m not sure if I can.”

“I feel like I’ve betrayed my family,” she says, and she pauses before speaking again. 

“I’ve not done my duty,” she says softly, and Cersei wants to tell her that her duty is shit, that the lot that they’ve been given in life is shit. She wants to tell her that she’s just trying to make things better, but she doesn’t think that will help. Cat’s a Tully, obsessed with duty and honor and the like, and Cersei’s unlikely to make her feel any better until they find out that their betrothal is legal. She twines their fingers, and hopes that will help. If nothing else, it helps her calm down. That, at least, is something.

* * *

 

 

They are able to arrange a meeting with the King and his Hand within hours of arriving in the capital. Hoster Tully, as always, does not hesitate to get straight to the point.

“ _Your_ daughter challenged my daughter’s betrothed for her hand,” Lord Tully says, rage returning to his tone.

“She did what?” her lord father asks incredulously. Cersei's father is a skeptical man, and she supposes he thought that he misheard. Lord Tully is not hesitant to repeat himself, and then the king bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Surely you can’t expect us to go through with it,” the Lord of Lannister says.

“I won,” Cersei asserts. She’s a Lannister, a _lion,_ and they will all hear her roar, “I defeated Brandon Stark! I won her hand fairly.”

“You’re both women,” Lord Tully scoffs.

“She won,” the king says, a shit-eating grin across his face, “and a challenge is legally binding.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Tully says, incredulity in his voice, “surely you can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am,” he says, a mad and spiteful smile on his face, “I’m the king.”

“I decree that your daughters will wed,” he says, and Cersei can see the fabled mad spark in his eyes. Cersei smiles.

“Surely Lord Tully’s oldest daughter deserves a better match,” her father says tactfully. He knows how to present a solution he desires in a manner that seems favorable to most parties, which is something Cersei admires.

“She deserves the heir to a great house,” he says.

“Then let her have one,” he says again, and his smile has not left his lips. Cersei almost finds herself wondering if it’s been sewn on his face.

“Your daughter can be your heir,” he says with a grin, something like mischief twinkling in his eyes, “one day, she will be Lord of Casterly Rock. Wouldn’t you think the Lord of Casterly Rock a good match?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” her lord father spits between his teeth, and the King starts speaking of wedding preparations. Lord Tully looks mortified, and his seething anger is almost palpable, but he knows better than to say anything. The joy beams from Cat’s face like sunlight, and Cersei smiles. She knew that they could make this work.

* * *

 

 

After the king finally finishes playfully discussing wedding preparations, her father grabs her by the wrist and drags her away.

  
“Why would you do this?” he demands. Cersei finds herself smiling despite his enraged state, maybe even because of it.

“I love her,” Cersei says, “Surely you’d understand that.” Her mother and father’s marriage hadn’t been politically beneficent. Her mother was a Lannister of a cadet branch, so their marriage won the Lannister’s of Casterly Rock no additional loyalty. At least her marriage will win them the begrudging support of the Tullys. The Lord of Casterly Rock stares her down then, a glare so hard a lesser woman might have withered under it. Cersei supposes she shouldn’t have forgotten that he would no longer understand.

Whatever part of Tywin Lannister felt love died with her mother.

“You made a mockery of House Lannister,” he says disdainfully.

“Now I am your heir,” she asserts, “And I am to wed a lady from a great house.”

“It should be Jaime,” he says, and Cersei feels her heart crack a little more. She wonders what she would be like if she’d never have left Casterly Rock, and was still fighting for the love and acceptance her father never will give her.

“Jaime’s joined the Kingsguard,” she says, her voice tight, “and you have two children who can succeed you: me, or Tyrion. I’d expect that you’d prefer me to the Imp.” She hopes, at least. She hopes that her father’s hatred for her deformed brother who killed his wife is greater than for the daughter who looks so much like her and embarrassed him and his house. He nods, and Cersei doesn’t know how to feel when she realizes that this is the closest that she will ever get to his acceptance.

* * *

 

 

The date of the wedding is set two weeks in the future. It allows for just enough time for wedding preparations, and for the whispers and laughter to start behind their backs. Catelyn seems elated, until she finally hears them.

 

“The king means to embarrass us by allowing us to wed,” Catelyn tells her as she tries on her navy blue wedding gown, “he means to spite your father.”

“I mean to spite my father as well,” Cersei says with a smirk, but Catelyn just glares at her.

“I am trying to be serious, Cersei,” she says, “aren’t you worried about how they’ll treat us?”

“No,” Cersei says, because she’s not. She’s going to wed the woman that she loves, and if she embarrasses her lord father in the process, that’s only a bonus.

 She looks to her bride-to-be, splendid in her Tully colors, and wonders what she’ll look like when she finally drapes the Lannister cloak around her shoulders.

“Yes!” Cat says, and she turns away from the mirror to face her betrothed.

“Cersei,” she says softly, “they’ll be laughing about us for generations to come.”

“I wanted your hand before,” she says, hugging the other woman to her, “and now we can wed and have the Rock. What does it matter if they entire realm laughs at us?” Cat shrugs her off.

“I never imagined that the world would be laughing at my wedding,” she says softly, “but I also never supposed I’d already love my spouse.”

“I suppose you can’t get everything,” Cat says, but Cersei can hear so many feelings behind her words. She’s excited, but she’s scared too. And in some ways, she disappointed. Catelyn Tully had always wanted to be a mother, but a child’s the one thing that Cersei can never give her. She knows one thing that she can do, though. She can make them stop laughing.

Her grandfather’s bannermen had mocked House Lannister long ago, until her father put down their little rebellion. She’s a Lannister, too. And when she’s Lord of Casterly Rock, no one will dare to laugh at her or her wife.

“When we’re two of the most powerful ladies in the realm,” she assures her with a devious smile, “we’ll be the ones laughing.” Catelyn sends her a genuine smile at that.

“Maybe,” she says, but Cersei can tell that the words made her feel a bit better.

* * *

 

 

The day of the wedding comes, and Cersei has never felt more excitement in her life. Lord Tully might never forgive her, and her father never will, but she doesn’t care.

The Great Sept of Baelor is coated in Lannister crimson and gold, and she’s getting almost everything that she’s ever wanted. Not even their fathers’ ire and the people’s laughter can take that away from her.

Cat wears a tight-lipped smile as the highborn lords and ladies giggle at them, but it becomes more genuine as she sees the woman who is to be her wife. The Tully maiden’s cloak is discarded as Cersei grabs the bride’s cloak. She wraps the nearly threadbare old Lannister cloak around her wife’s shoulders, and she knows that she couldn’t have asked for a greater wedding. Catelyn’s smiling now, in earnest. Even if they never can stop the laughter, their marriage will have love. That’s more than many people can claim.

 

Fingers intertwined, they step into their future together. Hopefully, it’s as bright as the sunlight outside the sept.

**Author's Note:**

> A few more things that are fun to imagine in this verse that I didn't feel like writing out. 
> 
> 1\. Imagine Cersei making her father let her lead a host during the rebellion and being really, really great at it  
> 2\. Catelyn serving as lady of Casterly Rock while they're off at war and and being REALLY REALLY GOOD AT IT  
> 3\. Them hosting awesome feasts and everyone being jealous about how happy they are  
> 4\. CATELYN AND CERSEI BEING VERY HAPPY FOREVER AND TYWIN NOT BEING ABLE TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM THEM


End file.
